


Dean Winchester is NOT a Woman

by Daytripper



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, M/M, My First Fanfic, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-02-03 19:59:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1755763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daytripper/pseuds/Daytripper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas explores PornHub and gets some ideas.  Dean's reluctance doesn't present much of a challenge.</p><p>Total smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dean Winchester is NOT a Woman

**Author's Note:**

> absolute smut i wrote when i was bored, and pretty much unedited. first supernatural fic i've written. not set at any specific time in the series (because i'm a lazy fuck), so there's no spoilers! but also no fact-checking lol. characterization is kinda forced because idk i'm learning??? that's my excuse anyway lol. hope it's not too shit. naturally, any helpful critique would be appreciated!! xoxo

Castiel appeared out of nowhere and Dean flinched.

"God dammit, Cas, you can't keep popping out of fucking nowhere like the goddamn Invisible Woman." He said it without hesitation, although he knew Cas wouldn't get it. He predicted the next statement even before it left Cas's mouth:

"Dean, I'm not a woman." Cas said, and Dean could practically hear his feathers ruffle. He quickly added the Fantastic Four to the list of movies he intended to show Cas, although it certainly wasn't as high of a priority as Rocky.

Dean simply patted Cas on the shoulder and gave a reaffirming nod. "I know you're not, buddy." 

"My vessel isn't, that is." 

He gave Cas a weird look, because _no shit_ his vessel wasn't a woman. And they'd been over the genderless angel thing more than a few times. "Right." 

Cas had a glint in his eye, and Dean tried to ignore it, although he was feeling all kinds of awkward at that point. After a few seconds, he turned back to the duffle bag he had been packing before Castiel's surprise entrance and shoved another layer of flannel in the bottom.

"And you're certainly not a woman," Cas continued after a few seconds of thoughtful silence. 

Dean froze, his hand on the zipper of the bag. "No, I guess I'm not." He continued zipping, slowly, keeping his eyes on Castiel and trying to figure the man out. "Did you find a new category on PornHub?" He asked lightheartedly, knowing Cas liked to get his rocks off just like the rest of 'em every now and then.

Cas shrugged, pursed his lips, and then nodded slowly. "I did, yes. It was intriguing, Dean." 

Chuckling, Dean flung the duffle over his shoulder and started heading for the door. "Well, while I'd love to help you out with that," he started sarcastically, "I have to pick up Sammy from a crime scene...ten minutes ago. I hear it got bloody." As he turned for the door, Castiel appeared in front of him, and Dean practically shit himself. His face, of course, remained the picture of not-giving-a-fuck. "Cas."

He had no time to react. Cas's mouth was against his in a millisecond, faster than most humans (or non-humans) could possibly kiss him. It was short, and fleeting, and light, but Dean gasped in a breath of air like he was drowning.

"What the fuck?!"

Cas's face remained almost blank, although a wavering look of sadness threatened to pull his eyebrows and mouth into a pout. "I'm sorry, Dean. I didn't know how you'd react--"

"You didn't know how I'd react?! Cas, how many girls have you seen me with?"

"Two," Castiel responded, a little too quickly. 

Dean stuttered, hesitated. "That's it?" 

Castiel nodded.

"But, I look at women! You must see me checking girls out constantly."

"Of course, Dean. However, I believe you 'check out' almost as many males as you do females. I thought you were aware."

Dean's brow furrowed, and he tried to remember the last person he'd eyed. Definitely a woman. With long legs, a firm ass, and...a jaw so angular it could cut ice. Fuck, had it been a guy? Had he been subconsciously checking out other dudes? _Fuck._

"You know nobody would judge you," Castiel said, his voice dropping a little bit lower (if that was even possible, Dean thought) as he edged closer to Dean. "The fight for equality in America is finally nearing its end."

Dean held a hand up, not wanting to hear Cas's flirtatious political opinions at just that moment. "This isn't the greatest flirting I've ever experienced, Cas," Dean muttered, still trying to work through the idea that he might not be the 100% woman-lovin' man he thought he was.

"Oh," Cas murmured. "How _should_ I flirt with you, Dean?"

God dammit. Dean really didn't have time for Cas trying to explore his sexuality. "Really, Cas, I have to get Sam."

"Sam will be fine," Cas said, his voice firm. He placed his hand on Dean's shoulder and gripped it tightly. Slowly, he pushed the man back towards the bed, and Dean wondered which porn video Cas had seen this in. "I only need sixty seconds."

Cas finally pushed Dean back, hard, and the duffle bag smacked against the carpeted hotel floor. Dean's ass hit the bed with a similar smack, the hard mattress leaving him sore. "Dammit, Cas--" 

He was cut off when Cas slowly pushed him backwards, crawling into his lap and straddling him. Against his better judgement, Dean let it happen, hoping Cas would come to his senses any second and realize that he just didn't swing that way.

No such luck. Cas lowered himself against Dean, practically laying on top of him, and licked lightly at the base of his neck. Dean didn't let himself make a noise, but his body stiffened at the contact. This had to be the weirdest foreplay he'd ever experienced. Immediately, he corrected himself: this wasn't foreplay. Foreplay was what happened before sex. And Dean sure as fuck wasn't gonna have sex with--

Cas bore his hips down against Dean's, the tightness of his jeans rubbing against Castiel's hip, and fuck if he didn't moan a little bit. "God dammit." 

Cas didn't even bother correcting his use of the Lord's name, just pushed against him again and kept sucking at the small patch of skin, which was giving Dean goose bumps. He had to stop the angel, _really_ had to stop the angel, but Dean had never been one to turn down pleasure. Even if his heterosexual manliness was at stake.

"Dean, I'd like to blow you," Cas said, and it almost sounded like he was reciting it. God, Cas was so fucking cute. Even when hooded over with intensely human desire, Castiel's blue eyes made him look adorable. The pleasure was definitely fucking with Dean's mind.

Then, Cas slid back down, his knees hitting the ground as he fumbled with Dean's belt. Dean jolted upright, about to slap Cas away. But he hesitated. That moment of hesitation was enough time for Cas to get the belt unbuckled, and after that, well, it seemed too far along for Dean to do anything about it. That's what he told himself, anyway.

Cas yanked the pants off of Dean's legs, and Dean even lifted his ass to help get the underwear off. There was a moment where Cas gave him a look that seemed full of insecurity and indecisiveness, but damn if he didn't go for it. The heat around Dean's dick felt familiar and foreign, right and wrong, heavenly and sinful. Fuck, it was good. 

Cas's cheeks scratched across Dean's inner thighs, and each time he felt it, it made him thrust into the heat of Castiel's mouth. The suction, the slick pull, and the little grunts coming from Cas all went straight to the pit of Dean's stomach. Castiel, Angel of the Lord, was about to make Dean Winchester come. In less than sixty seconds. It seemed kind of appropriate, Dean managed to think before his orgasm hit him like _a goddamn angel just sucked him off._

Dean lifted his head and managed to look Cas in the eyes. He leaned down quickly and drew Cas's mouth against his own, trying to ignore the taste of his own dick that lingered there. Later he might blame the post-orgasm high for what he was about to do, but in that moment it seemed to be the only logical next step.

Pushing Cas to his feet, Dean stood as well, and grabbed the angel's crotch. The heat and firmness beneath the slacks was weirdly endearing. Dean always thought it was a bit strange when Cas got aroused, even if it was just the vessel's instinctual desires talking. In the moment, however, the warmth drew him in. Sliding his hand down the front of Castiel's pants, Dean gripped the holy dick (heh, he chuckled) and started pumping like he would his own. It wasn't his fault if he didn't know how to get another dude off--Cas certainly hadn't given him time to do his own research.

That didn't seem like it would be a problem, though, because Cas went weak in the knees and wrapped his arms around Dean's shoulders. Dean never stopped, not when Cas started bucking or when he heard his named whispered in a moan. His wrist hurt like a bitch and he was getting a little weak-kneed himself from holding up Cas, but he kept his hand moving until he heard Cas's final "Unghhfff," and felt angel come all over his hand.

Slowly extracting his hand from Cas's pants, Dean buttoned his own jeans and wiped his hand on the hotel comforter. When he looked back, Cas was grinning like a lunatic and Dean found it nearly impossible not to smile back. Even though they both smelled like sex, Dean's wrist hurt like a mother fucker, and he was questioning his sexuality, it all felt kinda right. Cas would later insist that Dean had actually _giggled,_ but that he would have to deny until the day he died.

"I think you've seen enough porn for awhile, Cas," Dean said, smart-ass mode re-engaged as he picked up the bag and headed for the door.

Cas just smiled. "I don't think I'll be needing more anytime soon."


End file.
